


This Could Be Home

by Inkwasher (inkstainedwretch)



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Post-Non-Synthesis Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 18:19:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6530920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkstainedwretch/pseuds/Inkwasher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The old cities were well-kept by their synthetic stewards, but they were also chillingly vacant. The whole fleet didn’t even fill the capitol, and as they flew over unused roads through one empty town after another, the word Tali couldn’t help but think was <i>hollow</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Could Be Home

The grass was still wet with dew under her feet, beads of water slipping through the fabric covering of her sandals. The sun shone high above them, casting stained-glass shadows through the trees. The air was sweet and humid, and even through the filter of her helmet – the last piece of her suit she still needed – she could smell the flowers woven into the bride’s hair.

She was home, and she was thankful to be here.

Neryl was a vision in green and gold. The flowing fabric of her dress was just a few shades darker than her skin, and its geometric pattern glittered where sunlight reached the thread. Tali remembered well when they were both children, not yet old enough for their own suits, laughing happily as they played story games and danced circles around each other. They were only a couple of years apart, but Tali felt so old, seeing her now.

She’d been honored when Neryl had invited her to the wedding. Even though there was finally space enough for ceremonies, weddings were still considered rather intimate affairs. So much happened after Tali had left for her pilgrimage, she was almost surprised Neryl even remembered her. She couldn’t have been happier to be here now, though, as a friend…and as an admiral.

Neryl’s hands were so small, held fast by the geth standing across from her. Tali’s mind snapped reflexively into old habits, recognizing the size and markings of a rocket trooper. _Low shields, vulnerable to hacking._ The other geth in attendance had already been categorized in her mind. _Two hoppers, one prime, get to cover **quickly**_ **.**

She’d gotten better at reading geth body language, and it was clear that Neryl’s intended wouldn’t even think of hurting her. Their optic was wide, wanting to see as much of her as possible, and their head was inclined toward her just a little. Both things made them more vulnerable according to basic geth programming – vital cables exposed to potential attack, decreased distance vision. Tali could have killed it with one shot. She hoped she would never need to.

Beside them, Neryl’s mother held the ceremonial script in front of her. Shepard once told Tali, years ago, about marriages on human ships being conducted by the captain. She had to stop herself from laughing at the idea now; human ships didn’t typically house several thousand people at once. Quarian law had stated for centuries that any marriage conducted using the ceremonial script was valid, provided all parties were willing and of age, and it had served them well.

(She remembered the look on Shepard’s face when she’d said that, disbelief mixed with curiosity. “So, that’s it? Nothing about species, or gender, or how many people are involved?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh my god, humans need to start doing that. It would save us so much trouble.”)

“…throughout your days, may you walk together in happiness.”

Her mother beamed at them both. Neryl lifted her hands, still joined with the geth’s, and her eyes glimmered as she spoke.

“Anjal,” she said softly, “I promise to love you, to stay by your side, to guide and protect you, for as long as we live.”

Anjal (a quarian name, an _ancient_ quarian name, like so many geth had chosen) spoke next, their voice low and reverent.

“Creator Neryl’Issa vas Tonbay nar Rayya, I promise to love you, to stay by your side, to guide and protect you, for as long as we live.”

The ceremonial script had been different before the war, official changes distributed amongst the fleet as they were added. The line about protection and guidance had been added after the practice of pilgrimages was established, but it sounded so different when spoken from geth to quarian, from quarian to geth.

“May the ancestors smile upon this union,” Neryl’s mother lifted her arms above her head. “Keelah se’lai.”

“Keelah se’lai,” Tali murmured, joined by organic and synthetic voices alike. It was a little strange, that they still used the phrase now that they had seen the homeworld again, but she liked it. In her mind, it was a reminder of how far they had come.

\--

“Creator Zorah.”

“I keep telling you, Legion, you can call me ‘Tali’ like everyone else.”

She clambered down from the cargo rack at the top of the shuttle, finding it simultaneously easier and harder without a whole suit’s worth of cables and tubes. She knew from reports coming in across the planet that water and warmth wouldn’t be hard to come by, so the shuttle was packed mostly with food and clothes – her clothing wasn’t as durable and self-cleaning as it used to be.

Legion stood outside the shuttle, the exposed wiring inside his perforated chest cavity coated in dust. There had been dust storms outside the city the night before, but they’d been so far out Tali hadn’t considered that he might have gotten caught in them. Sometimes she forgot he didn’t need to sleep.

“I do not understand your statement,” he said. “Very few people refer to you solely by your given name.”  

“My _friends_ call me by my given name,” she felt a twinge of worry in her chest, despite herself. “I’d like to think you’re one of them.”

He took a minute to answer her, which wasn’t new. Even now that he didn’t have to build a consensus, he still took time to think before speaking.

“Understood,” he nodded.

She smiled, because it was progress.

“Is everyone ready?” she asked, climbing to the opposite side of the shuttle and closing the door. It was small, infinitely smaller than the Normandy’s shuttle, but not quite as cramped as the Mako. It was designed for ground transport, rather than space flight, and its front windshield was made of thermally shielded glass to protect from the hot desert sun.

“Preliminary observation indicates all teams have assembled,” Legion stepped inside and joined her, taking the pilot’s seat. “Trajectories have been determined. I recommend checking in before departure due to the possibility of unforeseen complications.”

“I agree,” she strapped herself in beside him and opened the comm terminal. “Tali’Zorah to base. Are we cleared for departure?”

“Nearly,” someone from another survey team responded. “One of our onboard terminals doesn’t have sufficient drive space to house all of the survey data. We’re replacing it as we speak.”

“That figures,” she chuckled, turning the comms off. “It would be a huge waste to get halfway across the continent and not be able to record everything you find there.”

“We offered assistance to survey teams consisting solely of creators,” Legion remarked. “Drive space can easily be expanded by substituting geth hardware for some onboard components. Our help was mainly appreciated, but sometimes deemed unnecessary.”

“All of you did?” Tali asked, knowing that ‘we’ was no longer synonymous with ‘I’.

“Most of us,” his plates flared.

“That’s the trouble with free will, isn’t it?” She grinned at him, tilting her head a little so he could see her.

“Yes,” he nodded, and she nearly snorted with laughter.

\--

The electricity grids still worked in the cities of Rannoch. The buildings still stood, and the water still ran. Despite the work that still needed to be done, there was enough space to unpack themselves from the migrant fleet and find a place to call home.

There was more than enough space for them, actually. History books aside, it was becoming clear that the Morning War had cost them much more than the homeworld. The geth had established most of their on-ground bases in the vast expanses of desert between Rannoch’s seas and rivers. The old cities were well-kept by their synthetic stewards, but they were also chillingly vacant. The whole fleet didn’t even fill the capitol, and as they flew over unused roads through one empty town after another, the word Tali couldn’t help but think was _hollow_.

Legion walked with her through a city she didn’t know the name of, its buildings standing tall and unchanged around them. The life had left them, and in the afternoon light their walls were smooth and dull as a well-worn monument, or perhaps a forgotten tombstone.

Above the doorway of what looked like a residential dwelling, letters were etched into the metal frame. It looked like it had been done by a laser, or perhaps a well-aimed energy pulse.

“‘Creator Ranu,’” she read, looking over at Legion quizzically. “Was that someone who lived here?”

“This is the place where Creator Ranu fell,” Legion said, looking down at the spotless ground in front of them. “She gave her life in an effort to protect the geth platforms inside the building. She was not successful.”

“But you still remember her.”

“All geth remember her,” Legion nodded, “as well as the other creators who sacrificed themselves for our sake.”

“How many…” she trailed off, not sure she wanted to know.

“I know the exact number,” he turned to her, his plates tight around his optic, “but I am not sure sharing it would benefit either of us.”

“I suppose not,” Tali looked at the empty world around them, shadowed by gathering clouds. “Any at all is too many.”   

It weighed on her, how differently she used to feel. She could still remember arguing with Neryl, with Shepard, with half the people she spoke to on her pilgrimage, trying to convince them the war was justified. It would have been far too dangerous to allow the geth to live as self-aware synthetics. The war only proved that. At least, that’s what she’d kept saying.

“Tali’Zorah?”

His voice startled her out of her thoughts, and she shook herself lightly.

“Sorry, I drifted off for a moment.”

“I wanted to offer some assistance,” he extended a hand, and it took her a minute to realize what he was holding.

“…why do you have a respiratory filter?” she asked softly. _And why is it an exact match for the one at the base of my helmet?_

“Based on observation, yours has not been functioning properly,” he said. “It has been that way for several days. Since you are usually very observant regarding your suit, I believed you did not wish to replace it. However, poor air quality may be affecting your concentration.”

Tali looked at the little white cylinder for a long moment, wondering how she was supposed to respond to that. It hadn’t occurred to her that Legion would realize her air filter was a week out of date, but he had. …and he’d brought a replacement.

“Thank you, but I don’t actually need it,” she took it anyway. “I’ve been keeping my helmet on because it’s…easier this way.”

“Respiration is roughly fifteen percent more effort inside of an exo suit.”

“Not like that,” she shook her head. “I mean it’s easier to be an admiral, to make hard decisions and stay strong when you need to. When people can see your face, things get complicated.”

He didn’t respond. She looked at the buildings again, and in the thermal display inside her faceplate, she could see that they were indeed empty. Nobody was watching her right now but Legion.

She kept her helmet on.

\--

When the fleet had landed, Rannoch’s southern hemisphere had just begun to slide into spring. The capitol, close to the equator, was mild and verdant. The further south they traveled, however, the colder it got, especially after sundown. The evening found them indoors, in a residential building, in what used to be someone’s home.

The city was so quiet, she could hear the wind far off in the desert, crying and howling its mourning song. Warm air circulated through the empty house, but she still curled herself against the wall and shivered.

Legion brought a blanket from another room and offered it to her with gentle hands. She took it, trying not to look too hard at its pattern as she wrapped it around herself.

Any of the bedrooms would have been a more logical place to rest. They were better insulated, and the furniture had been kept still and unchanged. Even the chairs and sofas were probably much softer than the bedroll she was sitting on, but she didn’t dare. If not for the cold and the wind outside, she would have been sleeping under the stars. There were enough rooms and beds and blankets on Rannoch for fifty Migrant Fleets, but she still felt like a thief.

On the floor beside her, the data they’d collected uploaded to the network. It was made of things like population estimations, structural analysis, and the layout of the city around them. They’d been trying to get a detailed, practical picture of what Rannoch really looked like now, what potential resources the empty cities could offer. The geth had already compiled extensive data on things like elevation and soil composition, so the teams in Tali’s squad were trying to see how the quarian people could best make use of their newly acquired resources.

They’d only sent a few teams out on this mission, of three people or less, to see if the methods were viable. They’d collaborated with the geth leadership to make sure they didn’t end up in one of the few cities that were no longer abandoned; it wasn’t as though resources were scarce enough that there was any need for dispute over them.

“Legion?” she asked, resting her chin on her knees. “Are we anywhere near one of the geth-populated cities?”

“We are not,” he replied, turning from his position at the doorway to face her. “Travel by shuttle to the nearest one would take five days.”

“That’s an awfully big diversion,” she sighed. “Well, I suppose there will be time later. I’d like to see one, someday.”

“The architecture and layout of geth-populated cities is not significantly different from our current location.”

She laughed softly. His sense of humor took getting used to, but the way his top plates slid back and forth told her he was pleased she’d gotten the joke.

“Why do you think those geth chose to live in old quarian cities?” she wrapped the blanket a little tighter around her, cushioning her legs from the firm edges of her helmet. “I can’t imagine geth-built structures would be very much like this.”

“They are not. Some geth chose to remain in the homes of their creators. They found new purpose keeping the city intact, and did not see a need to join the consensus physically when maintenance was not required.”

“Oh,” Tali all but whispered. “What about the others?”

“In some cases, geth units remained in close proximity to one another to facilitate cooperative networked intelligence for the group.” His plates shifted just a little, and she could swear he sounded almost proud. “These geth began to develop a sense of community after the war, and as a result they have chosen to remain near one another.”

“Wow…” she leaned back a little, looking out the window across the room and trying to imagine life, synthetic life, moving through the city with the same shift and rhythm she was used to seeing now in the capitol. It took significant effort to push away the image of a geth sniper crouched behind an open window.

When she looked back at him, he was looking down the hall again, the light from his optic glowing faintly on the edges of the doorframe.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he didn’t turn to face her. “Probability of an intruder is minimal.”

“Then why are you standing guard like that?”

“I want to.” He did look at her now, and his voice was just a little softer. “It brings me comfort.”

“Comfort?” Her brows furrowed. “How?”

“Allow me to rephrase,” he sounded uncertain, and it was so new. “Perhaps not comfort, but reassurance. This is the only point of entry into this structure. Therefore, standing guard at this location provides a sense of security.”

“I see. …I just hope you know I didn’t invite you on this mission to be my bodyguard. I invited you because I know we work well together. You’re my teammate. …you’re my friend.”

It marked the third or fourth time she’d reminded him of that since they’d taken off, and though he’d never said anything to the contrary, she was beginning to worry he didn’t agree. He was quiet for a long moment, but right when Tali was about to give up, he spoke again.

“Combat-focused dynamics are familiar to me,” his optic lowered, “but they now seem out of place. The role of ‘friend’ is not one that I am used to.”

She felt a strange, static-fuzzy feeling in her throat. It had been years since she’d first met him, but he still found new ways to catch her off-guard. Sometimes she wondered if he hadn’t been at least somewhat self-aware before the reaper code, if he’d tried to hide it from the rest of them out of fear. Maybe one day she would ask him.

Instead, she ran a hand over the mat beside her to smooth it out, figuring she didn’t have anything to lose (even though she really had so, so much).

“Why don’t you come sit down?” she said, hoping she didn’t sound nervous. “The sun hasn’t been down for long. We have time to talk while the data uploads.”

For a second, she was afraid he wasn’t going to move. Then he walked towards her, and suddenly she was even more afraid. It felt like she’d just knocked over the first pebble of a rockslide.

He sat across from her on the floor, and she could see the windowsill through his chest.

“Are you ever going to repair that?” she asked, without really thinking about it.

“Repairs have been made,” he said a little too quickly. “Exposed electrical contacts have been insulated. Plating has been applied to shield hardware from damage-”

“I didn’t…” she held up a hand. “I know you’re perfectly functional, believe me. I mean, do you want to seal it? It seems like it might be safer that way.”

“Sealing it is unnecessary,” his plates flared wide. “Shields are adequate to protect internal components from attack. Dust and other contaminants are of minimal concern.”

“I didn’t ask if it was necessary,” she looked right into his optic. “I asked if you wanted to.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, but she was willing to wait.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “Tomorrow we can check the industrial buildings across town. I’m sure we can find compatible parts.”

The aperture of his optic opened as wide as it could go, and she couldn’t help but giggle.

\--

The city’s plant life had certainly grown wild, but most of the outdoor spaces they’d found had been maintained by the geth, trees all bent around existing structures until they formed a connected canopy of green. It had made a beautiful backdrop for Neryl’s wedding, and now it covered the whole courtyard around them in cool shadow.

Wedged tight between two bent branches was a tangle of cloth, frayed at the edges but clearly woven in a quarian pattern. Tali actually jumped at the sight of it; she hadn’t seen anything like this since the fleet had landed.

“Keelah, is this…” she whispered, tugging until she could tear a piece free and hold it up to the light. “This was someone’s clothing, wasn’t it?”

“Fabric material and weight are consistent with clothing made before the war. The pattern is that of clan Tulos,” Legion said. “The clan did not survive the war. That pattern has not been woven since.”

She’d been waiting for this since the fleet had touched down, and now they’d found it. She had seen buildings, homes, furniture and belongings, but it was all empty and lifeless as a dollhouse. Any evidence that people had lived here, that people had _died_ here, had been nowhere in sight until now.

“Why isn’t the whole city filled with these? What happened to the quarians who used to live here? Were they buried? Were they burned?”

“Yes.”

“So both,” she sighed. “How long did it take? There must have been millions of them.”

“There were.”

She turned the cloth over in her hand, feeling the threads shift over her fingertips. The color had faded from years of sun and rain, but the fabric held strong. It seemed that even before exo suits became necessary, quarians had always been gifted with textiles.

“This fabric is very dense,” she said softly. “It wouldn’t ignite very easily.”

“No,” Legion lowered his head. “No, it would not.”

\--

Her omni-tool sparked and crackled as she fused the new plate to his chest, forming a seam of shiny metal just below the scuffed N7 insignia. Behind them, she could see the flickering light reflected in the window, above the shining new plates already affixed to his back. New connective tubes fastened onto the front, winding around to his back and matching the set on his other side. The sky was dark, and as she finished the last seam Tali could feel the weight of the day settle into her bones.

“There,” she sighed softly, stepping back and inspecting her work.

It wasn’t the same shade of grey as the rest of him, but it was close, and she knew time and wear would dull its gleaming surface soon enough. The way Legion lived, it probably wouldn’t take too long.

He turned slowly, caught sight of his reflection in the window, and froze.

“Do you like it?” She asked softly. He hadn’t said a word during the entire installation, and now he stood motionless. His optic was a pinprick glaring back at them in the window.

“…yes.”

“Good.” Warmth began to spread through her chest. “I’m glad.”

All at once, he turned to face her, and before she could speak she felt his strong, heavy arms wrap around her shoulders. She leaned into him, resting her head on his chest plate, the warmth of his body pleasant against her arms and chest. She wished so badly to be able to feel it against her cheek.

“Thank you,” he said, and his voice resonated under her. “I find it difficult to articulate my gratitude.”

“This is fine,” she said. “As long as you’re happy, that’s enough for me.”

She looked up at him and watched his plates flare wide. Inside her helmet, she wasn’t sure if he could see the flush of color in her cheeks.

\--

On the way to the next city, they could see dark clouds gathering ahead of them. Their long-range sensors told them the storm was moving their way, but the speed estimate it gave them was woefully optimistic. It was part of a much bigger weather system, and trying to avoid it would have delayed them by nearly three days, so they pressed on. If it got too bad, Tali reasoned, they could land the shuttle and wait it out.

In the end, that was exactly what they ended up doing. Arms attached to the side of the shuttle kept them firmly on the ground. To save fuel, Tali began to switch off non-essential systems. With only emergency lights active, Legion’s optic was bright as day beside her.

“Guess there’s not much to do but wait until the storm passes,” she shrugged, unfastening herself from the seat and leaning up to stretch her back.

“Agreed,” Legion nodded, his optic making a bright swinging arc across the cockpit. Tali giggled, and he turned to face her. “Have you thought of something amusing?”

“I just remembered something Ashley told me once,” she leaned back a bit, “about geth having ‘flashlight heads’.”

Legion’s faceplates flared, and they stayed that way for a long moment.

“…the comparison is not inaccurate.”

Tali laughed out loud. “I’m sure it comes in handy, though. Probably great for night vision, even if it makes you easy to spot.”

“There are advantages,” his plates settled back down again slowly. “However, under current conditions, it is not ideal.”

“What do you mean? It’s bright enough that we probably don’t even need the emergency lights.”

“Yes,” his seat turned to face hers, “but it creates a glare against some surfaces.”

“Not a huge problem,” she shrugged.

“Perhaps not to you,” Legion paused, and for once it seemed like he was _actually_ hesitating. “However, a substantial glare is created by the surface of your faceplate. I can no longer see you.”

Tali’s eyes went wide.

“That…isn’t unusual, is it? Nobody can see my face, most of the time. Unless I tilt my head so the light gets through, anyway.”

Lightning flashed in the distance, illuminating his whole body for a moment. His hands rested in his lap, and she watched his head tilt down to look at them. They waited for the thunder to crash over them both before he spoke again.

“It may be different for organics,” he replied softly. “The optical sensors of this platform are able to adjust for creator helmet reflection, under normal circumstances.”

She brought a hand up to her face, feeling her pulse begin to pound in her ears.

“You…could see my face?” She asked. “Before?”

“I have always been able to see your face,” he nodded, “other than what was covered by the frame of your helmet.”

“Oh, keelah…” she whispered. “I had no idea.”

“I apologize if this upsets you,” he said quickly. “With your extensive knowledge of geth hardware, I believed you already knew.”

“No,” she shook her head. “I didn’t know…but it doesn’t upset me.”

She ran her thumb along the edge of her faceplate, feeling the cool air of the cabin on her hands and the unbearable heat on her face and neck. 

 “I suppose there’s no need for it now…” she murmured, and with the soft pop of switches, the seal was undone.

She blinked a few times, giving herself a moment to adjust to the change in lighting, and then set it down. Each side of her helmet separated from the back, and the fabric below separated at the seam until it reached the final seal at the base of her neck. She lowered her hood and carefully placed the pieces on top of each other in her lap.

That done, she reached behind her head and unfastened her hair from its loose knot. It fell in a single twist onto her back, and she rubbed her fingers over her scalp to try and separate it, grimacing a bit at the sensation.

“Is that stimulus painful?” Legion asked, and she laughed softly.

“Not really. It’s just been a long time since I let it down.”

“My earlier visual extrapolations did not accurately predict its length,” he replied. “I am surprised.”

“Not in a bad way, I hope?”

She looked up at him, feeling incredibly nervous despite knowing now that he’d seen her face before, hundreds of times. Perhaps not all at once, but…he’d been able to see her since they first met, since before they even became teammates, let alone friends. This shouldn’t have been too different. …but _ancestors_ , did it feel different.

“No,” his tone softened, but he didn’t look away from her. “Pre-war creator culture considered long hair to be aesthetically pleasing.”

“That’s nice, I suppose,” she ran her fingers through it a little more, feeling her face heat up and knowing he could really, truly see it. “…what do you think?”

His optic flared so wide, it nearly blinded her in the low light. She squeezed her eyes shut, but she still saw flashbang-bright spots behind her eyelids. Lightning flashed outside, closer to them this time. The thunder came sooner, sounding three times as loud as it had before.

When she looked up at him again, his plates were doing what could only be described as _fidgeting_.

“Legion?” she asked. “Are you alright?”

“I am not sure how to answer,” he said rather frankly.

“Why?” she tilted her head, wondering if she’d just screwed it up completely, wondering if he could see how her heartbeat was picking up. “Do geth even have a concept of beauty?”

“I can no longer speak for geth as a whole,” he said, and she could have _sworn_ he sounded nervous. “However, there is code within my software that provides the framework for an aesthetic sense.”

He _was_ nervous. Legion didn’t talk about himself like that anymore unless he was afraid of something. That was some comfort, knowing she wasn’t alone in her trepidation.

 _The only way out is through,_ she thought.

“So, what does that aesthetic sense think of me?” she smiled, tried her hardest to sound casual. “Or are you afraid of making me angry?”

Her answer was nothing but the rain falling outside. Even the lightning refused to interject. Her hands began to shake again, and she was so afraid she’d just ruined the evening, the entire mission, and one of the best friendships she’d ever had in her life.

“Never mind,” she started to turn back to face the front window. “Forget I said anyth–”

“I do not believe my answer would anger you,” Legion said. “However, subjective beliefs and values held by the geth are frequently dismissed by organics. Many of them do not believe that a synthetic is truly capable of expressing preferences based on aesthetic taste.”

“Oh,” she said softly, feeling her heart sink. “I didn’t even think of that. I can see why that would make you hesitate.”

“Before I answer your initial question, then, I must ask one in response,” he continued. “Will you believe me?”

“Of course I will,” she dropped the pieces of her helmet to one side and reached over to take his hand. “You remember, don’t you? When we took back Rannoch?”

She lifted both of their hands to rest on his shoulder, at the seam where the N7 met the new plating.

“This unit has a soul,” she whispered.

“I remember,” he replied. “Despite our initial differences, when I saw you again with Shepard-commander on the dreadnought, I was…pleased. Even when you did not approve of me, you still treated me with the same respect as your other teammates.”

His optic expanded a little, but didn’t move from where it was focused on her face.

“I do not know to what extent those factors have influenced my opinion,” he said softly, “but the fact remains that I think you are exceptionally beautiful.”

Despite herself, Tali felt her eyes begin to sting.

“…thank you,” she whispered, not letting go of his hand for an instant.

Outside, the storm raged on. Tali didn’t know how long they would be stuck here, but she was so thankful for how far they had come.

\--

It wasn’t raining when they reached the city, but the clouds still hung overhead. The buildings towered above them, pressed together so tightly they couldn’t see any plant life for miles. They took the elevator of the tallest building straight to the top, hoping to get a better view of the city’s layout.

“What _was_ this?” she asked, not really expecting an answer. “Some kind of military headquarters?”

“It was a marketplace,” Legion replied. “Population in this area was dense enough that storefronts were moved and condensed. Several other buildings in this city served a similar purpose.”

Slowly, Tali turned to look at the elevator’s control panel. They were barely halfway up the building.

“What kind of population would it take,” she said, “to need a marketplace this big?”

“Approximately nine million creators,” he said. “I am not certain how many geth units were present before the war.”

“Nine million,” she shook her head. “Numbers like that sound so much smaller in history books.”

Tali was lightheaded when they finally reached the top floor, and as they walked through the empty hallway she began to feel dizzy and strange. They walked through doorway after doorway, trying to find a window, and when they finally did she all but collapsed against it.

Outside, the skyline stretched on and on and on, rows and clusters of buildings as far as she could see. Nine million people. Nine million lives, likely gone for good. Only one percent of the total quarian population made it to the fleet. She knew that. Every quarian alive knew that. But the fact had never confronted her so directly.

If you only looked at numbers, perhaps some of the arguments people had made about the geth held water. Tali had seen far too much war to believe it was just a matter of numbers.

“How did we keep fighting,” she whispered, “even after so many of us died?”

“Many creators opposed the war,” Legion was only standing a few feet behind her, but he sounded so distant. “However, they were in the minority. By the time the creators declared martial law, those who opposed the war were treated as enemy combatants.”

“We did it to ourselves, too,” Tali leaned her head against the glass. “Can you imagine, if Shepard hadn’t been able to stop us?”

“It is not clear if geth are capable of imagination,” he said, a feeble attempt at humor. “However, my extrapolations based on recorded data do not indicate a peaceful resolution would have occurred.”

“We would have gone extinct,” she said, so quietly she barely heard herself.

She felt his hand on her shoulder, and she leaned her head gently against it.

“If it helps,” he said, “I believe there was at least an equal chance of Shepard ordering the Alliance fleet to assist your people.”

So maybe the geth would have been eliminated, instead. She didn’t really like the sound of that either. But there was blood on his hands, just as there was conductive fluid on hers, and it was up to both of them to help bring these empty cities back to life.

\--

They had traveled even further south, and when the sun went down, the raindrops still clinging to the window began to freeze. The house they found themselves in was adequately heated, but the windows in the living room were missing their shades, and the glass stole heat from the rest of the room. Tali found herself walking through the bedroom of someone who died long before she was born, running a hand over the patterned blankets and wondering if their clan still lived.

Legion was standing by the front door again, a whole room away but clearly visible. She smiled softly and looked back at the room around her, wondering how best to situate herself. The bed was enormous. It had to have been built for three people, perhaps even four. The blankets had been well-kept; their colors had faded, but it was clear they had been maintained, likely by a geth initially built for domestic service. Where were they now, she wondered, and what would they think of her intruding on their creators’ home?

She reached for her bedroll, deciding that the room was warm enough for her to set herself up on the floor, and as she picked it up, one side bumped the panel of a door set into the wall. With a soft hiss, it opened, and what Tali had thought was a closet turned out to be a rather spacious bathroom.

The sight of it made her drop her bag right back onto the floor. Since most of Rannoch’s cities were built near rivers or coastlines, water was abundant, but it appeared that whoever had lived in this house had put significant resources into their fixtures. On one side of the room was a tub big enough for three of her, and one of its sides was sloped to allow the user to lean back against it.

Since they began to leave their suits, quarians at large were beginning to develop a taste for the incomparable luxury of bathing, and Tali was no exception. Inside the modest apartment she kept, away from the eyes and expectations of the public, was a smaller tub that she missed dearly. Keelah, how long had it been since she’d had the chance to wash her own hair?

Bathroom fixtures were different than the bed, she decided. And besides, she’d brought her own soap. True, she’d expected to use it for a quick, efficient shower, but…to hell with it. They’d been at it for days, and she wanted to unwind.

The water warmed quickly, and in a matter of minutes she had tossed her clothing aside and slid into the tub. She could barely contain the sigh of satisfaction as the heat of the water relaxed the muscles of her back and legs. For a few minutes, she was content to just lie back and breathe, whatever thoughts she’d had drifting away from her with the steam.

She heard Legion’s footsteps through the walls, probably moving from the doorway to the window, and for an instant, it felt like this could be home. Had it been that way before, in this house? Had the people who had once lived here considered their geth part of the family?

The memory of Neryl, of Anjal’s hands wrapped around hers, sprung to the front of her mind. What was their life like, now? How many more weddings like theirs had taken place since the end of the war? How many other people were as happy as they had been, standing under the trees and sunlight?

She wasn’t sure if she was quite that happy, but it had to be a near thing.

Eventually, she sat up and reached for her soap, washing the dust and dirt from her skin. It had taken a long while to get used to the absence of her suit, and she understood why some people chose to stay in theirs. Not having to worry about things like hygiene certainly had its merits, but once her skin had gotten used to the feeling of direct touch…she just couldn’t go back.

“Tali’Zorah.”

She started, drops of water splashing up around her. She hadn’t heard him step into the bedroom, probably because of the softer flooring. The slanted end of the tub faced away from the door, but she hadn’t closed it. She wondered if he was far enough into the bedroom to see her. She didn’t turn around to find out.

“Yes, Legion?”

“I could not establish visual confirmation of your location. I apologize for any breach of modesty.”

“It’s alright,” she said, trying to determine just how brave she was feeling tonight. The heat of the water was doing things to her, and his words from the shuttle had followed her all day. _Exceptionally beautiful_.

“If you will be staying in this room, it is more strategically sound that I position myself at its doorway.”

She smiled to herself. If he wanted to be closer to her, all he had to do was ask. Then again, perhaps this was his strange way of asking. Combat-focused dynamics were familiar, after all.

“It would,” she nodded, taking a deep breath, “but I’m not quite ready to turn in.”

“Understood.”

She rinsed the soap from her neck and shoulders, waiting a moment to see if he said anything else. He said nothing, but after a moment she heard soft steps, all but muffled by the carpet. Realizing she was about to lose her chance, she spoke up.

“Legion?” she turned her head around, unable to see him through the open door.

A few more soft steps, and his optic came into view.

“Yes?”

“Would you like to help wash my back?” she asked. “I can do it myself, but if you want to…”

She waited for him to reply, her heart hammering against her chest, hoping if she’d crossed a line that they could just forget this in the morning–

“Yes.”

He came closer, stepped through the doorway until his feet tapped against the bathroom floor. She watched as he made his way past her, submerged his hands in the water at the other end, and scrubbed the dirt from them before coming back to her.

She handed him her washcloth, still coated with soap, and without a word he knelt behind her and moved it in slow circles across her back. His movements were thorough, but gentle, and his fingertips wrapped around her shoulders just a little when he moved his hand upward.

“You’ve done this before,” she murmured, “haven’t you?”

“This platform was originally designed to function as an agricultural unit,” he said, and his voice echoed a bit off of the hard walls. “However, it sometimes participated in domestic service, as well.”

“Do you remember them?” she asked.

“His name was Kal’Venla,” he submerged the cloth and began to rinse the soap from her skin. “He was…kind to us.”

“Was he beautiful?”

She wasn’t entirely sure why she’d asked, but it was the first question that came to mind. 

“I do not know. When he lived, the geth did not yet understand what beauty was. However, the memories I have of him…I believe they are beautiful.”

“I see,” she turned to look at him. “I was going to wash my hair next, if…”

“Understood,” he moved his hands, allowed her to lean back and immerse her hair in the water for a moment. When she sat up again, she felt him apply some of the soap to her hair. It was cool against her scalp, but his hands were warm.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“I believe I should be thanking you,” he replied.

He removed his hands, and she sank down into the water again to rinse her hair. When she emerged, she stayed on her back, lying up to her neck in the water so the ends of her hair floated beside her. She was incredibly exposed, but she felt comfortable. She lifted one hand out of the water and reached up, and her fingertips left a gleaming trail on the edges of his face plates.

“You enjoy this?” she asked.

“Yes,” his neck turned a little, as though he were leaning into her touch. “I am grateful that you have allowed me to be so close to you, especially in such intimate context. I am under the impression that you enjoy this, as well.”

“Yes,” she said right back, unable to keep from smiling. “I like having you here with me. That’s why I invited you.”

“I am glad,” his plates shifted a little under her fingertips. “Accompanying and assisting creators is written into the most central parts of my code, but I have never experienced such focused motivation to assist and protect a single individual.”

“That’s a rather roundabout way of describing affection,” she laughed.

“I am not certain I understand affection at present.”

“Neither am I,” she said, then grimaced and shook her head a little. “I’m sorry, that was awful.”

She sat up a bit, shivering at the rush of cool air against her skin, and moved her hand down to take one of his.

“It’s alright if you don’t understand how you feel, right now. I just hope I can make it clear how I feel about you.”

“I believe that your sentiments were apparent when you invited me in.”

“Good,” she laughed aloud. “I was just hoping…when we get back to the capitol, maybe we could stay like this? Maybe you could stay with me? Only if you want to.”

His other hand lifted hers from where it rested on the edge of the tub. They were not quite so differently sized as Neryl and Anjal, but his palms were just a little bigger than hers, his fingers just a little longer.

“I want to,” he said. “The process of developing and identifying emotion is complex. However, I know that simply being near you makes me happy. I understand that using my abilities to protect you brings me satisfaction and reassurance. If any action I take brings you happiness, reassurance, or security, I am fulfilled in ways I do not yet understand.”

Even the most poetic version of quarian wedding vows wouldn’t have had such an impact. She leaned in close and pressed her lips to the side of his plates. Perhaps he could feel it, perhaps he couldn’t. Judging by the way his optic narrowed, he at least understood what the gesture meant.

Drops of water from her hands and hair made their way down his body, clearing paths through the dust that still clung to him. The water was warm still, even more so than his hands.

“…join me?” she asked, indicating the expanse of water beside her.

There was more than enough room for him.  She was beginning to wonder if the size of the bed and bathtub were meant to accommodate more than two quarians…or perhaps more than one species. Were they changing history, or repeating it?

Either way, Legion stood, and slowly he stepped in beside her. The water was deep enough on that end to reach his waist. She picked up the cloth and set to work washing the rest of him, her motions just as slow and gentle as his had been.

There was something relaxing about it. She had become familiar with the form and function of his platform through repair and assisting with maintenance, but those had been actions of necessity. She was doing this because she wanted to, because _he_ wanted to. This body was more to her than a mobile platform for his digital intelligence, and she had the feeling he thought about it the same way.

By the time she reached his neck and shoulders she was all but sitting in his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck when she was done, enjoying the feel of his body against her skin. His arms circled around her under the water, holding her close and lifting her just a little. Her legs rested on his so she was straddling him. The sensation was exhilarating…and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel a twinge of excitement at the feeling of his hand on her hip.

She breathed deep, letting her eyes slide shut. This was enough, right now, but she wasn’t sure it would stay that way. Before she could quite figure out how to phrase her question, however, he spoke first.

“Tali?”

Her eyes snapped open. Despite all her efforts, he’d never called her that before. Not without her surname. She leaned back a little so she could see his optic.

“…Legion?”

“Based on your actions, I am under the impression that you are amenable to other kinds of intimate contact. Am I correct?”

She laughed, more from sheer happiness than anything else. From the sound of it, he was nervous, and that was fine. They could be nervous together.

“You are,” she bit the corner of her lip gently. “What about you?”

“I have no hardware that would respond to such stimulus,” he said plainly. “However, I am…curious.”

“Curious about what?”

“You.”

Her eyes went _very_ wide. “I…really?”

“Yes,” one of his hands moved up to her shoulder. “I want to know if I am capable of generating a pleasurable response in you, despite our physical differences.”

“I have the distinct feeling you could,” she felt her face heat up as she glanced over at his hand. “Do you want…do you want to try?”

“I do,” he hesitated for a moment. “However, I do not have sufficient data to determine how best to begin.”

“That’s alright,” she murmured, taking hold of his hand.

The tips of his fingers were tapered like her own, but a little thicker and much harder. Their metal surface was smooth, and where they ended there was no seam. The rest of his hand was firm synthetic muscle, and it moved gently under her touch as she inspected it. 

“Your hands are lovely,” she remarked. “Have I ever told you that?”

“You have not.”

“Well it’s true,” she smiled. “I think…I already know so much about your body. Would you like to learn more about mine? This seems like the best opportunity.”

“I would like that,” his optic widened a little, “very much.”

“Then go ahead,” she leaned back a little and let go of him with a smile. “Explore.”

His hand ran through her hair first, rolling the strands between his fingers. His thumb traced the shell of her ear, and his fingers flexed around the back of her neck before his whole hand rolled over her shoulder. His fingertips traced over the bones of her chest, identifying the space between each rib he could feel and running lightly over her sternum. He pressed and kneaded gently at one breast, then the other, and when she hummed happily his top faceplates retracted.

“Is this good?” he asked.

“M-hm,” she nodded. “Keep going.”

He did as instructed, and his fingers made a slow path down her spine before returning around to the front. His thumb dragged slowly back and forth over her stomach, and then his hand sank below the water, joining the other one where it still supported the base of her spine.

Ancestors help her, she was already open, and even under the water she was sure he could feel how aroused she was. His hand slowed, his finger making its way down the center of her folds with agonizing hesitance. She shifted forward out of frustration, and her clit made contact with the side of his palm, and she _gasped_.

“…is this good?” he asked again, his voice much softer.

“Keelah, _yes_ ,” she sighed. “Here, let me show you.”

She rocked her hips back, then forward again, and she felt his hand flex just a little to conform to the curve of her body. It drew a soft moan out of her, and after another few seconds he picked up on her rhythm. He moved with her, enough to generate a little more friction, and she shivered at the feeling of the muscles in his hand flexing under her.

“That’s right, like that,” she encouraged him, feeling her eyes start to slip shut again. “Legion, that feels so _good_.”

She resisted the urge to lay her head back down on his shoulder. He worked best when he had visual feedback, and she wanted to make it abundantly clear that he was doing well. So she held onto his shoulders for leverage, grinding down on his hand and letting him hear every sound she made. Pleasure built up inside her, and she felt her legs start to shake.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, knowing he wouldn’t unless she asked but unable to keep from saying it. “I think – _oh_ , I think –”

Her cry reverberated off of the walls as her whole body shuddered. Even with her eyes squeezed shut, she picked up the difference in light that meant his optic had opened wide. He was watching her intently, he wanted to see this, he wanted to _do_ this, and that made it even sweeter. Her head fell back as she rode it out, and he kept moving with her, until it was too much for her to take.

“That’s enough,” she said breathlessly, and he stopped. She leaned against his chest and took a few seconds to catch her breath. “Keelah, that was _amazing_ …”

“I am glad,” he wrapped both arms around her again, and she did the same, touching as much of him as she possibly could.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you even if you aren’t sure how you feel yet.”

“Thank you, Tali,” he said softly. “It is difficult to express what I am feeling at present.”

“Are you happy?”

“Overwhelmingly so.”

She held him even tighter, and her heart sang.

“Then so am I.”


End file.
